


Susan Cain Got Levi Laid

by TheHeartOfStories



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Eventual Smut, Fashion Designer Levi, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Lawyer Erwin Smith, Library, M/M, Modern AU, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeartOfStories/pseuds/TheHeartOfStories
Summary: Levi is an aspiring fashion designer and photographer who struggles to come to terms with his diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. He meets Erwin Smith at the library, a lawyer by day and a man with a dark secret by night.Who knew a trip to the library could be just what the doctor ordered?Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4MONRGMAUGYlwFdvA0NHJA
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 13
Kudos: 62





	1. 911 Hottie @ Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Chapter Title (wordy as all fuck): The Dewey Decimal System Does Fuck All When You're 5'3 on a Good Day

“Mr. Ackerman,” Dr. Ral laid her clipboard on her lap as she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “We’ve talked about coping mechanisms for your anxiety --” 

“Petra,” Levi slumped against his chair and held his chin in his hand. “How many times do I have to tell you that I --” 

“-- don’t have anxiety,” she finished, eyeing him over the rim of her slim glasses. 

She brushed her hair behind her ear and sighed. 

“May I be frank with you,” she chewed her lip. 

Huffing, he nodded. 

“You’re going through a time of mourning, mourning the loss of the standard of normal you’ve been accustomed to, and that’s okay. And mourning means the stages of grief, one of which is denial.” 

Levi rolled his eyes. 

“You’re in denial that you have anxiety, but you’re bordering on agoraphobic at this point --” 

“-- I’m not agoraphobic: I’m introverted!” 

“And we’ve talked about this as well. Levi, the first step we need to take is defining what it means to be introverted versus having Generalized Anxiety Disorder.” 

Dr. Ral straightened and looked at her feet, fidgeted with her blazer’s lapel. 

“If we can’t even do this,” she held his eye, “then I have other therapists I can recommend that would be able to help you more than me.” 

Levi sat up, almost jumped out of his seat while Petra ignored him to scribble something on a sticky note. He really was not about to start all over with a new therapist. She handed the note to him. 

“Here’s a book I liked. It helps to differentiate between extroversion, introversion, and issues like anxiety.” 

And that was how Levi found himself wandering the skyscraper-like library aisles. His nose scrunched up at the smell of old lady perfume and lemon-scented Febreeze, the shitty kind in the little plastic bottle that attaches to wall corners and sprays obnoxiously all over your head. 

Levi clicked his tongue as he trudged up and down the same aisle, thumbing the sticky tab of Dr. Ral’s note. The book she recommended was “Quiet” blah blah blah by Susan Cain, and her last name started with a “C”. So why the fuck couldn’t he find the goddamn book? It should be near eye level for him -- 

His collision with a blond brick wall of rolled up sleeves and relaxed tie broke his train of thought. When he caught those hellishly blue eyes, he swallowed every dirty curse he had for the shit head. 

‘The gorgeous shit head,’ his brain corrected himself. 

“Oh,” the Adonis took a step back with a shit eating grin that could cure cancer, “I didn’t see you there.” 

Levi reeled, brows shooting up into his hairline as he craned his neck back to look up at this asshole. 

‘Gorgeous --’ 

‘No,’ he caught his dumb brain before it could finish that petulant thought. 

“Yeah, well, I thought the Berlin Wall was taken down a few years ago,” Levi grumbled and internally cringed at his shitty comeback. 

Crumpling his pink sticky note, he jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from boot to boot while the guy chuckled beside him before returning to examine the book shelves. The man bent over with a hand tapping his clean shaven chin, squinting at the titles. Swallowing, Levi glanced at the book spines and back to the blond. Levi marveled at the fact they were almost the same height when the guy was bent in half, but then he straightened himself, a chiseled hand on his hip. 

Could hands be chiseled? Levi’d have to ask Farlan the Art Major ™ . 

And, as Levi outright stared at Tall Shitface, he noticed the red title of his doctor-recommended book just above his perfectly pommaded hair. When Levi realized he had the perfect opportunity to prolong an awkward conversation with this Chris Evans-esque stranger, he died both inside and outside. 

Levi spun on his heel and whipped out his phone, frantically texting Isabel. 

Levi: 911 hottie @ library. 

Then he whipped back around just in time to catch said hottie clipping his fancy ass pen to his breast pocket with one hand not so casually hidden behind his back. 

“Uh,” Levi’s eyes narrowed as he took a step towards the bookcase and pointed to the second highest shelf, “can you get a book down for me?” 

“Sure,” the guy all but chirped. “Which one?” 

“It’s gray with a red title: Quiet by Susan Cain.” 

“This one?” 

“Yeah.” 

Adonis plucked the book down and flipped through it. Then, he turned towards Levi and stared him down as he slipped a business card into its pages before tucking it into an extra space on the shelf just above where it had been originally. 

“What the fuck,” Levi hissed. 

Blondie stifled a laugh, shrugging. Levi, with a completely straight face, placed one boot on the bottom shelf and his other on the next shelf. He locked eyes with Asshole as he climbed up the shelves to grab his book. Glaring with his prize in hand, he jumped down before striding away without a second look over his shoulder. 

Well, he didn’t look back until he was at the self check out, thumbing through the pages until he found the business card. 

‘Erwin Smith,’ the card’s front read, ‘Local Attorney at Law.’ Along the edge of the business card was an inky arrow pointing towards its back. Levi turned it over to find Erwin’s shakily written phone number. 

And that was the story of how Susan Cain got Levi laid -- eventually. 


	2. Honey, I'm Home!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this was supposed to be a one shot, but I'm a liar; it's now got a plot. The story summary has been updated to reflect this as well -- although I may need to tweak it a bit more over time. 
> 
> Also, please forgive me because I literally know *nothing* about sewing/fashion design.

The sky had opened up while Levi was at the library, and it was  _ pouring.  _ Hastily pulling his hoodie over his head, Levi held his new book against his chest where it was safely hidden beneath his leather jacket. His boots splashed through new puddles as he made his way to the train station. When the train rolled up, he scanned his trashed Public Transport card and ducked inside. Ignoring the incessant buzzes from Isabel’s texts, Levi flew up the stairs -- took two steps at a time -- to the top floor. He slid into an empty seat and popped in his headphones. 

It was less crowded at the top. Some college students huddled together over a table between their seats. Levi watched them uncap a Sharpie and scribble their names alongside the table’s faded graffiti. A few rows down from them, a businessman typed away on his laptop with a bored expression plastered across his middle-aged face, and  _ holy fuck _ Levi’d bet his left nut that man typed 105 words per minute. In a section up ahead, a rather frazzled mother hissed at her kid to stop bolting up and down the aisles. Levi smirked at the laughing little boy and relaxed in his chair. 

He pulled out the book from his jacket. As he set it on the table in front of him, Adonis’ business card slipped free from its pages and landed in his lap. Chewing on his stupid grin, Levi replayed his run-in with that hot as all fuck lawyer. His fingers absentmindedly trailed over Erwin’s inky phone number written on the back of the card. Levi hoped Erwin had gotten a good look at his ass while he scaled that bookshelf, and he hated to admit that he admired Erwin’s ballsiness for doing something like that. When the train pulled into his stop, Levi stuffed Erwin’s business card in his inner breast pocket, zipped it up before he got up and left. 

From there, Levi jogged the rest of the way home, his boots kicking water up his calves the whole time. His breath fogged in front of his face by the time his place came into view. The apartment complex was straight out of the ‘70’s -- all lead paint over cement walls and rusted wrought-iron staircases that scaled the building’s sides. Heaters jammed into window sills rumbled to semi-life while he took his time climbing the stairs. Levi snorted when he caught sight of the Autumn-themed floor mat Isabel stuck in front of their door. As he wiped his boots on it, he unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. 

“Honey, I’m home,” he yelled over the flood of music as he shut the door behind himself and bent down to unlace his boots. After kicking them off, he tucked them in the corner beside Isabel’s flats and Farlan’s sneakers. 

“Is that Levi?” Isabel turned down her bluetooth speaker as Levi got to his feet. Scowling, he looked over the bar into the kitchen. 

On a stool, Farlan sat at the center of the kitchen with a black smock thrown over him. One of Levi’s nice dish towels was tucked round his neck. Clumps of his hair littered the linoleum, his lap, his shoulders. In her socks, Isabel stood behind him, a comb and clippers in her busy hands. 

“Who the fuck else would it be?” Levi shuffled out of his jacket and hoodie. Before throwing them over the couch’s back, he took out Erwin’s business card and shoved it into his jeans pocket. Dr. Ral’s book was tossed onto the kitchen counter as Levi leaned against its edge.

“Hanji’s not home yet.” 

Levi shrugged.

“You didn’t message me back,” she pouted with her hands on her hips. 

“She won’t shut up about your 911 text,” Farlan groaned.

“I got busy,” Levi lied.

“Yeah, with what? Fantasizing about broad shoulders and washboard abs at the library?” 

“Shut the hell up, Izzy.” 

Farlan laughed. Isabel went back to cutting his hair. 

“You might buzz off half his ear if you keep attacking his head like that,” Levi poked at her from across the room. 

“Keep talking trash, and you’ll wake up with the top of your head buzzed, asshole.” 

“Someone’s getting close to their time of the month,” Farlan said under his breath.

Levi whistled low while Isabel hit the back of Farlan’s head. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She hit him again. Wincing, he jumped in his chair and swatted her away. 

“Fuck, woman, I meant Levi!” 

“Uh huh, yeah, whatever.” Isabel smoothed out Farlan’s smock and leaned down, close to his ear. “Remember that the fate of your fade lies in my hands right now, so.” She straightened and returned to cutting his hair. 

“Please,” she whined, “tell us what happened!” 

“Fuck,” Levi grumbled, running a hand through his damp bangs. “Fine. I smacked into a fine as all hell man while I was at the library today --” 

“-- you read?” Farlan grinned. 

“My therapist wanted me to pick up some book, okay? Fuck off. Anyways, yeah. I face planted into the nicest pair of tits to ever grace my face, and the guy gave me his number.” Levi sure as hell wasn’t about to mention how said tits made him climb a bookshelf. 

“Wow! Did you motorboat him? Have you texted him yet? What’s his name?” Isabel squealed, practically dancing in place. 

“His name is Erwin Smith, Local Attorney at Law, and no, I haven’t.” Levi pointedly ignored her first question, a brow raised.

Isabel gawked at him. 

“Are you an idiot? Why didn’t you text your sexy lawyer while you were at the library?” 

“What? You make it sound like someone’s gonna swoop in and put the moves on him before I even call in for take out tonight.” 

“If he’s as hot as you’ve said, then, well, maybe.” 

“Levi,” Farlan sighed. “Izzy’s got a point. You should text him.” 

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I’m playing hard to get.” 

Farlan’s face scrunched up.

“Izzy, you’re right. He _ is _ a fucking idiot.” 

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Levi grabbed his book and swiped his hoodie and jacket from off the couch. As he made his way through the living room and down the hallway with his friends calling after him, he flipped them the bird. 

He kicked his bedroom door open and slammed it shut behind himself. Levi strode into his closet to hang up his jacket and hoodie. Then he leaned against the wall and just breathed, enjoying the peacefulness of being alone. His little room was his hideaway from the world. His bunk bed -- the same one from his mom’s house -- was special; it only had the top bunk. Where the bottom bunk had been removed, his collection of vintage cameras were mounted to the wall with little placards underneath them that talked about what states and antique stores he picked them up from. A few of the older cameras were from his mother’s study abroad program in France. His desk and sewing machine were nestled into the space as well. Two metal clothing racks, filled with his latest designs, were pushed against the wall. A photograph Levi took of his college, Pratt University, was framed above the racks. 

Flicking on the overhead light, Levi hopped over his bins filled with swatches of colorful fabrics, and he plopped down in front of his desk chair. He turned on his lamp, sighing as he put in his headphones, and settled in to pull another all-nighter; his designs weren’t going to fly off the page and sew themselves in time for his first runway show. 

It was at his internship during his senior year in the Fashion Design program at Pratt University that he got his big break: a feature for his designs on the runways of New York, New York. It was the realization of his boyhood dreams, and, as he put on his thimble before flipping his old sewing machine’s switch on, he knew this success would only be the first of many more to come. 

Minutes bled into hours with nothing but his music, his sewing machine’s  _ tack tack tack _ , and the gentle swish of fabric to keep him company before his phone alarm went off. It was Dr. Ral’s recommendation to help him remember to take his medication, but  _ fuck  _ he hated the blood draws and the sluggishness that Lithium plagued his life with. And, besides, yeah, the anxiety sucked, but the manic episodes brought on by his Bipolar Disorder weren’t that bad. He even kinda liked them, which he would never admit to Dr. Ral because, well, she just wouldn’t understand. So, he dismissed the alarm and guiltily stared at his phone’s clock. 

Fuck, was it really 11:35pm already? His hand wandered to his pocket, and he pulled out Erwin’s now crumpled business card. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to send Adonis a text. . . 


End file.
